


A Muppet Christmas Carol, Starring Harold Finch

by branwyn



Category: Person of Interest (TV), The Muppet Christmas Carol (1992)
Genre: Alzheimer's Disease, Embedded Images, Gen, Ghosts, Harold Wren - Freeform, Humor, Parody, Screenplay/Script Format, Survivor Guilt, Time Travel, apologies to Dickens I guess, canon typical suicidality, it's just that but with muppets and POI themes, you know the Christmas Carol story right
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:14:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27825841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/branwyn/pseuds/branwyn
Summary: Gonzo: It is one of the most enduring tales in English literature! A beloved classic, dear to the hearts of people all over the world!Leon: Huh. I thought it got canceled.
Relationships: Harold Finch & Nathan Ingram, Harold Finch & Will Ingram
Comments: 25
Kudos: 33
Collections: POI Advent 2020





	1. STAVE ONE: Nathan's Ghost

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to the first fanwork on the Person of Interest Advent Calendar!
> 
> This story, like the original, is divided into five parts, or "staves". (It's a music term, I had to look it up too.) Stave Two will be posted on December 8, Stave Three on December 21, Stave Four on December 24, and Stave Five on Christmas Day.
> 
> Huge thanks to [st_aurafina](https://archiveofourown.org/users/st_aurafina/pseuds/st_aurafina) for making (at very short notice) the wonderful title banner with Gonzo and Leon. Also huge thanks to [taimdala](https://merelyawhimblog.wordpress.com/my-posts/), who doesn't even go here, for making the manip with Harold and Kermit.

**STAVE ONE  
Nathan’s Ghost**

[SCENE: A Manhattan city sidewalk in the middle of a weekday afternoon. Ordinary New Yorkers, muppet and human alike, throng the streets. Christmas is in the air. The seven-foot tall monster operating the hot dog cart is wearing a red santa hat. A group of human and muppet carolers are singing “Carol of the Bells” on the corner, while Animal, patience hanging by a thread, hits a triangle in time with the music.

Pan to a muppet and a man standing side by side, facing the reader. The man is 40s, Asian, short greying hair, dubious expression. The muppet is Gonzo.]

Gonzo: Hello! My name is Gonzo the Great.

Leon: And I’m Leon Tao. The...pretty good, I guess. Who are you talking to again?

Gonzo: The readers! They are here for the story!

Leon: What story?

Gonzo: It is one of the most enduring tales in English literature! A beloved classic, dear to the hearts of people all over the world!

Leon: Huh. I thought it got canceled.

[A few feet down the sidewalk, Bean Bunny, riding a scooter, crashes fantastically into a cartload of singing cabbages, all of whom start complaining loudly.

While Leon is distracted by the commotion, Gonzo sets off down the sidewalk. Leon hurries to catch up.]

Leon: Hey, hang on, I have a legitimate question. How come you’re telling the story? Me and Harold go way back, you know? We’re like friends or something. 

Gonzo: Let me check. (touches an earpiece, then looks directly at Leon) She says you’re an unreliable narrator.

Leon: Thanks for that.

[CUT TO elevator doors opening onto the 54th floor. Cheerful office workers, human and muppet, scurry around them. A holiday party is in progress. Trays of singing fruits abound.]

Gonzo: Nathan was dead to begin with.

Leon: Who’s Nathan?

Gonzo: As dead as a doornail. When he was alive, Nathan Ingram had been business partners with a reclusive genius by the name of Harold. 

Leon: Wait, like, _IFT_ Nathan Ingram? The tech guy who got blown up?

Gonzo: Nathan was a businessman, but his friend Harold was a visionary. The architect of a new age of human civilization. The Father of Artificial Intelligence. But Harold was also lonely. A solitary dreamer. As secret as the grave, and as solitary as an oyster.

Leon: Huh. He never said. (awkward) Guess it, uh, never came up.

Gonzo: Harold went by many names, but to his employees at Universal Heritage Insurance, he was known as Harold Wren.

Harold the Bird Muppet: (nesting on the outside of a window) No relation!

Gonzo: And every Christmas, he poured his generosity forth to all around him, especially his employees. Everyone who worked at Harold’s company looked forward to the winter holidays, and the food, gifts, vacations, and bonuses they received. But this year, something was different. Mr. Wren didn’t mingle with his employees as usual. Instead, he kept to his office, leaving his PA to preside over the annual Christmas party in his place.

Kermit: (knocks and peeks into the office) Excuse me, Mr. Wren? 

Harold: Hello, Kermit. How’s the party going?

Kermit: Oh, the party’s going great. Everyone in the office is having fun. We saved you some cake?

Harold: Oh, how thoughtful. But I’m afraid I don’t have much of an appetite.

Kermit: (concerned) You should eat, Mr. Wren. You need to keep your strength up.

Gonzo: At that moment, who should arrive at the door but Nathan Ingram’s only son, Harold’s honorary nephew, Will.

Leon: There’s no one _at_ the door, dude.

Will: (walking up, knocks on doorframe) Uncle Harold! 

[Leon glares.] 

Harold: (maneuvering his wheelchair away from the desk) Will, dear boy, how are you?

Will: Merry Christmas!

Harold: I thought you’d be back to your residency by now.

Will: My mom asked me to stick around through the holiday. I didn’t want to say no. They were divorced for years but uh, Dad’s death still hit her pretty hard.

Harold: Of course. Well, Christmas in the city should be pleasant. Any exciting plans?

Will: Not really in the mood for excitement, to be honest. We’ll have Christmas dinner, open presents. Might go to church, if she asks. What about you?

Harold: Oh, you know I’ve never been much for the holidays. Suppose I never saw much point to them.

Will: Well then, you’re going to hate my next question.

Harold: Oh dear.

Will: Come have dinner with us. You don’t have to do presents or carols or brandy eggnogs or whatever my mom and her friends have cooked up. Just dinner. You shouldn’t be alone at Christmas.

Harold: (wry) Does Olivia know you’re asking?

Will: It was Mom’s idea.

Harold: I see. I’ll call her, make my apologies.

Will: How’s your neck? You’re going to all your follow up appointments, right? 

Harold: Tell you what, Will. Finish your residency, then you can be nosy about my medical affairs.

[Through the office window, we watch Will embrace his uncle. Harold holds him tight for a moment, then watches him leave, a little sadly.]

Harold: Kermit?

Kermit: (hurrying forward) Yes, Mr. Wren? 

Harold: Have someone bring my car around. I think I’m finished here for the day.

Gonzo: (whispering) That’s us!

Leon: What’s us?

Gonzo: (pushing Leon out of frame) Go go go go!

*

[SCENE: A town car idling next to the curb. Leon is behind the wheel, and Gonzo is next to him in the passenger seat.]

Leon: Okay, I get it. We need to stick close to Harold so we’re gonna drive him home. Just tell me one thing: what happened to the guy who was supposed to drive?

[Through the windshield, we see Fozzie Bear explaining to a bewildered and skeptical Lionel Fusco that he has a license for all those rubber chickens somewhere, really he does.]

Leon: Huh. Comedy’s a tough business.

[The car begins making its way through midtown on a gloomy afternoon in December. Through the windows, we see Christmas decorations in shop windows, a group of muppet penguins skating in Rockefeller Center: all the usual trimmings of the season in New York.]

Gonzo: (VOICEOVER) Although Harold owned a lot of real estate in the city, he was making his home at Nathan’s loft just now. Perhaps this helped him feel closer to his old friend. Or perhaps he felt that the loft held secrets which might be dangerous if any but he were to uncover them. There was much that was mysterious in Nathan’s former home. It was full of shadows and sealed boxes and cold, dark monitors that once hummed with life, but now seemed to watch Harold’s every move.

Leon: (VOICEOVER) How can you possibly know all that? We’re not even there yet, and you’re like, anthropomorphizing the dude’s electronics.

Gonzo: (VOICEOVER) I told you, I’m the storyteller. It means I’m omniscient.

[SCENE: The car pulls up to the curb. Leon gets out and takes the chair from the trunk, helping Harold into it and holding the door of his building open for him. Gonzo waits for him back at the cab.]

Gonzo: Now once again, I must ask you to remember that Nathan Ingram was dead and decaying in his grave.

Leon: Jesus!

Gonzo: That one thing you must remember, or nothing that follows will seem wondrous.

Leon: Who are you trying to be, Charles Dickens?

[Gonzo hushes him, and nods at Harold.]

[POV HAROLD: At the back entrance, where the only ramp is located, he inputs a security code. There’s a small video screen mounted above the number plate. Harold hits the last key, and instead of getting a green light and an unlocked door he gets---]

Ghost of Nathan: (appearing in video screen) Boo!

Harold: (rearing back) Ahh!

[Gasping, Harold takes a few deep breaths then shakes it off. The video screen is blank again. It was a glitch, he tells himself. Just a glitch.

He wheels himself inside and backs into the elevator, looking around slightly bug eyed as the doors close.]

Gonzo: To say that Scrooge was not startled would be untrue. 

Leon: Huh?

Gonzo: Oh! Sorry, I was looking at the wrong prompter. (clears throat) To say that Harold was not startled would be untrue. Still, the moment had passed, and if the world was not as it should be, it was at least free from further surprises. He made his way upstairs, caring not a button for the quiet. 

Leon: We’re not going to follow him?

Gonzo: Better idea. Back to the car!

[SCENE: Car interior. On the dashboard there is a laptop streaming footage of the inside of Nathan’s loft. Gonzo and LEON watch Harold’s movements. They are both eating from a large tub of popcorn.]

Leon: It’s warmer in here, but aren’t we gonna lose the readers if we’re this far away from the action?

Gonzo: Oh no, the readers go wherever the POV takes them.

Leon: (lips make a P shape)

Gonzo: It means point of view.

Leon: I knew that.

[CUT TO: Harold sitting at a long kitchen table with his laptop and a cup of tea going cold. The far end of the table is covered in sealed boxes from Nathan’s estate. The windows glow with unearthly light from the swimming pool. Harold sits in front of a laptop, ignoring the darkness.

Gonzo: (VOICEOVER) Solitude was safety, and Harold liked it. But the incident at the door had made him wary. Before he shut himself in for the night, he reviewed the footage from his security cameras.

Leon: (VOICEOVER) So when you said storytellers were omniscient, you meant they had good tech.

Gonzo: I knew you were going to say that.

[Over Harold’s shoulder we see him checking security logs and fastforwarding through footage from the various cameras in and around the loft. Nothing alarming. 

Using his cane, he goes around the loft checking all the cameras, adjusting angles, testing connections. Nothing is out of order.

Finally, Harold sits down at his computer again. That’s when the phone starts ringing. 

First, it’s just Harold’s phone. Then it’s the landline that Nathan had installed for who knows what purpose. Then it’s _all fifteen_ of the burner phones Harold keeps in a box next to his work station. 

Faintly, through the window, he can even hear the ringing of a payphone on the sidewalk below.

As Harold looks around him in slow horror, the massive flatscreen TV in the living room flares to sudden brightness. So does the screen of his laptop. 

Nathan’s big handsome face smiles down, looking exactly as it did when Harold last saw him at the ferry three months ago.]

Ghost Nathan: Harold! Good to see you!

Harold: You’re not Nathan, Nathan’s dead. Who are you?

Ghost Nathan: You’re half right. I am dead. Who knew the government would go to all that trouble for little old me? 

Harold: No. No, this is an exploit. You’re a script. A loop. A hack, you’re a virus. When I find out who sent you--- 

Ghost Nathan: You know who sent me, Harold. 

Harold: (frantic) There’s more of gravy than of grave about you!

Ghost Nathan: Are you okay? You don’t look so good. You should probably sit down.

[Harold collapses on a sofa and stares up at the TV.]

Ghost Nathan: Harold, my friend, I’m here for your welfare.

Harold: My welfare? You almost gave me a heart attack!

Ghost Nathan: You’re going to participate in a few...let’s call them simulations.

Harold: Simulations of _what?_

Ghost Nathan: Without these simulations, twenty years from now you’re going to die alone without so much as a cat to eat your body. Do you want to end up a mummy in your own server room?

Harold: I can’t believe I grieved for you.

Ghost Nathan: Expect the first simulation when your phone goes off at 1!

Harold: How did _you_ hack my phone code? You didn’t even graduate from MIT!

Ghost Nathan: (fading out) Nobody likes a snob, Harold!

**END OF STAVE ONE**


	2. STAVE TWO: The First of the Three Simulations

****

**STAVE TWO  
The First of the Three Simulations**

[Scene: Exterior of Harold’s building, night. In an alley behind the house. Gonzo and Leon are climbing the fire escape to the roof. Well, Leon is climbing. Gonzo is clinging to his back, calling down encouragement.]

Gonzo: (urgent) Go faster!

Leon: My fingers are frozen. (pants) We're three stories up. (pants) I could fall to both of our deaths.

Gonzo: You want to see what happens, don’t you?

Leon: (begrudging) I guess I’m a little invested.

[They finally reach the top. As he flops onto the safety of the roof, sighing in relief, there's a flattened-sounding squawk from beneath him.]

Gonzo: (muffled) Excuse me.

Leon: Oh, sorry man. 

[He sits up to allow Gonzo, nose squashed, to crawl out from under Leon.]

Leon: Oh, you've got a… (Leon gestures to his own nose. Gonzo just looks at him.) You know what, it's fine. Forget I said anything.

[CUT TO, interior, Harold’s bedroom. He’s dressed in burgundy pinstripe pajamas with piping, and a matching robe. Sitting on the edge of his bed, he checks his phone, then powers it off for the night. He climbs under the covers and reaches over to turn off the light.]

Gonzo: (VOICEOVER) Nathan's appearance in the loft had troubled Harold. Despite his best efforts to convince himself that a technological failure was responsible for the strange happenings of the evening, the simple truth was that the flat no longer felt as empty as it once had. But as the minutes and the hours ticked by, Harold found it increasingly difficult to keep his eyes open, and it was almost against his will that he slipped into the deep silence of a dreamless sleep.

[Harold snores lightly. Suddenly, in the alley below Harold's window, there's a loud noise. Nothing alarming, just ordinary street noises. Harold's eyes fly open, and he half-rises from his bed, only to sink back down, disgusted with himself.

Harold: (whispering to the dark empty room, or maybe to himself) Ridiculous.

[CUT TO the roof. Gonzo and Leon are sitting on the edge of the roof with their legs dangling over the edge. Below them, the muppet cat is perched in a window, glaring at three muppet rats. The rats have bad attitudes and punk haircuts and they're saying mean things to the cat. Finally, he's had enough: he gives a butt wiggle and pounces. The muppet rats disperse in alarm.

Leon, watching avidly as the drama unfolds, takes a small handful of jelly beans from a paper bag and passes the bag to Gonzo.] 

Leon: It’s nice up here, you know? Peaceful.

Gonzo: I know what you mean.

[A SUDDEN, GLARING LIGHT FROM OVERHEAD MAKES THEM CRINGE AND COVER THEIR EYES. A powerful wind nearly knocks Gonzo off the edge of the roof. Leon grabs him at the last second. 

What is happening? Is it the end of the world?

No; it's just a helicopter, come to land on the roof of Harold’s building.

CUT TO: Loft interior. A terrified Harold sits up in his bed as heavy footsteps thump down the hallways toward his door. Heart pounding, he waits.

SOMEONE POUNDS LOUDLY on the door.]

Voice (from the other side of the door): Hey, why's your phone off? Come let me in.

[Frozen, Harold doesn't move.]

Voice: Look, the faster we get this over with, the faster we can both start repressing.

[The reasonable tone of voice takes him off guard. Slowly, Harold puts on his robe and crosses the room to unlock the door.]

[ ](https://ibb.co/VTHd0Hq)

Shaw: (looking him up and down) Better get changed, you'll freeze your balls off.

Harold: I beg your--- (takes a deep breath) Are you the simulation whose coming was foretold?

Shaw: I'm just following orders, I have no idea why I'm here.

Harold: (squinting) Have we met?

Shaw: I have a thing I'm supposed to read. (digs around in the pockets of her leather jacket for a piece of paper) "Participating in this simulation will remind you of the value of human relationships. Hopefully, the experience will encourage you to get some. Pun intended. Love, Nathan."

Harold: (fascinated) How is it possible for him to be _more_ obnoxious now that he's dead?

Shaw: Beats me. Now put your pants on, the chopper's waiting.

[CUT TO the roof. Harold has managed to find pants and shoes as well as a hat and scarf, but he's still wearing his PJ top and his robe. Shaw climbs in the pilot's side, and Harold gets in next to her.

Harold: [shouting to be heard] You can’t land a helicopter on a rooftop in Manhattan, you’ll have everyone from the police to the FAA knocking down my door!

Shaw: Don't worry, just blame it on your dead best friend the tech billionaire and you'll have a completely different problem. Buckle up!

[EXTERIOR. The helicopter slowly begins to rise in the air. As it heads west, we see an extremely bright light in the distance.]

Harold: What is that light? Oh my god, is the Chrysler building on fire?

[The light grows bigger and whiter until it blots out the city below. The helicopter is a small black dot swallowed up in the brightness.

Black screen, dissolving into the vast blue-whiteness of a snow-covered rural landscape, undisturbed by tire tracks or even footprints. A lone farmhouse with a smoking chimney is seated in the midst of all this empty, pristine winter beauty. A sturdy, weathered barn completes the picture.

CUT TO: Barn exterior. Shaw and Harold step out through the doors.]

Shaw: Can't believe I was able to fit the helicopter in there.

Harold: Well you can hardly park it outdoors in this cold, the battery will die. 

[Shaw gives him a strange look, but Harold's mood has picked up. He claps his hands briskly and turns in a circle, surveying his surroundings. There's a strange expression on his face---it might even be a smile.]

Shaw: You know this place?

Harold: I was a boy here, once.

Shaw: You were a kid? _You_.

[While Harold is thinking of a suitably withering comeback, we see the barn door creep open and Gonzo and Leon peer around it, keeping an eye on Harold as he makes his way toward the house with Shaw.]

[ ](https://ibb.co/zbp8QXY)

Gonzo: Looks like we beat them here after all. Good thing we knew a shortcut.

Leon: I still can't believe you wanted me to jump off the roof and cling to the landing skids for however long it takes to fly a helicopter to _the past_. 

Gonzo: Aww, look at Harold. He almost seems...happy.

[POV switch to Harold and Shaw. We follow them as they get closer to the house.

Harold: I don't understand. What year is this?

Shaw: Whatever year it was when you were that age.

[Shaw nods toward the barn, where Harold Finch, age 6, is emerging after having finished his morning chores. He's got big winter boots on and his coat buttoned up to his chin.

CUT TO, the farmhouse, interior. Small Harold is wiping his feet carefully on the doormat, just the way his mother taught him. She's been dead since the summer, and this is the first Christmas that Harold and his father, Thomas, have had to make do without her.

Leon and Gonzo are watching, unnoticed, with their noses pressed to a window.]

Thomas: Did you remember to feed the birds?

Harold: Yes. And I got the eggs. Camilla laid four.

Thomas: Huh. Guess something surprised her.

[Leon looks at Gonzo]

Harold: (matter-of-factly, as he unbuttons his coat): I'm going to make breakfast. You should wash your hands.

[Thomas is surprised. Just a few days ago, he'd let Harold heat up some canned soup for dinner. He should have known that once Harold learned to operate the stove, something like this would happen.]

Thomas: (careful not to disparage the offer) Actually, I thought we could have breakfast at the diner in town this morning.

Harold: We don't go to town on Fridays.

Thomas: Today's a special occasion. Some fella drove up with a truck full of Christmas trees last night. Thought we'd go pick one out.

[ ](https://ibb.co/bd6Jjwf)

[There is a choked cry, hastily swallowed back. We look to the corner of the room, where Shaw and Harold are watching the scene. There's a puddle of melting snow on the floor around them.

In the background, we hear the indistinct sounds of an enthusiastic discussion of what Harold is going to order for breakfast, and which of their ornaments they should unpack for the tree.]

Shaw: (warily) You okay?

Harold: I remember this. My mother had just died. 

Shaw: Okay. (after a beat) I'm sorry?

Harold: I didn't think we were going to celebrate Christmas that year. You know, put up the tree, open presents. Thanksgiving, my birthday in the autumn, both had passed without mention. I'd just sort of naturally concluded that, now that my mother was dead, we weren't going to be celebrating anything anymore. Not until this morning.

[Shaw keeps her memories to herself, but she can relate. A little.]

Shaw: Huh. Look at little you, you're really psyched.

[Small Harold has gone from "miniature adult" to "excited kid" right there in front of their eyes, so there's no use denying it. But Harold is not as embarrassed as Shaw expected him to be.]

[ ](https://ibb.co/hZPn5R5)

Harold: My father's family had a tradition of telling ghost stories and making popcorn over the fire on Christmas eve. He wasn't much of a storyteller, but...he did it for me.

Shaw: So you lost your mom, but your dad pulled himself together so you didn't have to be miserable at Christmas. And, even though you both missed her, you remembered that you loved each other.

[Harold stares at her.]

Shaw: That's what it said to say on the card. Look, we have a lot of past-you to get through, so...did you learn your lesson or whatever?

Harold: (dry) Yes, thanks to the festive lampshade you've hung on it, I believe I can safely say that the point has been taken. What's next?

Shaw: We wait a minute.

Harold: I beg your--- 

[Before he can finish the sentence, the room grows dark. There are no more voices. He and Shaw are alone in the room. Well, almost.]

Faint noises are coming from the dark living room, like the shuffle of slippers over carpet. Harold and Shaw wince as a lamp turns on suddenly. Thomas is downstairs, wearing his pajamas. He's holding a paper box with a lid, slightly battered around the corners and edges. 

Thomas opens the box. His hands tremble slightly as he takes out a carved wooden ornament in the shape of a songbird, hand painted in bright colors. He holds it up, letting it dangle from the string so that it looks like it's flying.

A light appears at the top of the staircase. Harold, 20 years old, is jamming his glasses onto his face and squinting blearily. He calls down.]

Harold: Dad? Everything okay?

[Thomas doesn't reply. Harold hurries down the stairs, and sighs in relief when he sees his father sitting quietly, not doing anything unsafe.]

[ ](https://ibb.co/BC01mD2)

Thomas: (smiling fondly) I carved this for your mother the Christmas after you were born. The next year after that, she painted it and gave it back to me.

[Harold has heard this story many times, but finds that he doesn't mind hearing it again. It's nice that his father understands that it's Christmas time.]

Harold: I used to think that carving things out of wood was something all grown ups could do. Like magic.

Thomas: There's only one way you learn how to do anything, Harold, and that's by doing it.

Harold: I know, Dad. (He's thoughtful for a moment.) Your dad taught you how to carve. How did Mom learn to paint?

Thomas: Oh, she taught herself. She was a real artist. A dreamer. That's where you get it from.

[Our Harold, deeply moved but not willing to show it, moves out of earshot of the conversation. He stands by the kitchen window, where the moonlight is strongest.]

Shaw: All right there, Harold?

Harold: There were so many things I never had the chance to find out about my mother. He would tell me stories when I was a boy, but I stopped asking as much when I got older. Then I woke up in the middle of the night and found him holding that box, with all her favorite ornaments in it. I remember thinking...this is the last chance I may ever have to ask this one simple question. And I learned that my mother was an artist. In a way, it was the last Christmas present he ever gave me.

Shaw: (understanding) Alzheimer's. He's late stage. 

Harold: This was our last Christmas together.

Shaw: That blows.

[Harold laughs, surprising himself a little.

Shaw looks at her cue card, which contains Harold's next moral lesson. She looks at Harold. She tears up the card, and tosses it over her shoulder.]

Shaw: C'mon. Time for your next gig. 

Harold: (dabbing at his eyes behind his glasses) Back to the helicopter, I suppose.

Shaw: Nah, we can walk.

Gonzo: (VOICEOVER) Hurry, we need to follow them.

[CUT TO: The view outside the living room window, where Gonzo and Leon are crouched and frozen. Icicles are forming off the tip of Gonzo's nose.]

Leon: All right man. I'm gonna need a minute to like, thaw out. (groans)

Gonzo: No it's okay. Here. (He hands Leon a Christmas cracker.)

Leon: What is that, candy?

Gonzo: It's called a cracker. Here, I take one end, you take the other. Now--pull!

[The CRACK of the cracker becomes the POP of a champagne cork. CUT TO--

\--A Christmas scene that couldn't be more different than the one we just left behind. We are in Nathan and Olivia Ingram's home in Manhattan. The year is 1987: the year IFT finally started making its founders rich. And this is the first of Olivia Ingram's annual Christmas parties.

It's a big deal, this party. Everyone is in formalwear. Waiters circulate, balancing trays of canapes. The tree is 10 feet tall and was decorated by an interior designer. Nathan is laughing too loudly, and Olivia gives him a look from across the room. 

"Where's Harold?" she mouths, when she catches his eye.

Nathan scans the room. Harold's nowhere to be seen. He shrugs.

"Find him!" 

Nathan is supposed to give a speech soon, and Harold is supposed to stand next to him while he gives it. Harold hates that idea, but Nathan hasn't mentioned that little wrinkle to Olivia yet, so he excuses himself from his conversation and sets out in search of his favorite recluse.

Shaw and Harold are standing against the wall. As a waiter passes by, Shaw snags an entire tray of canapes.]

[ ](https://ibb.co/Jr0TYq2) [ ](https://ibb.co/qsVd9Mt)

Shaw: (mouth full) Nice party.

Harold: Mm. 1987. Now that was a strange year.

Shaw: I was in second grade.

Harold: (winces delicately) Perhaps we should follow Nathan. I believe I remember where it was he found me.

[CUT TO a child's bedroom. Five-year old Will Ingram is in bed asleep. On the nightstand, there's a small plate with something chocolate smeared all over it, an illicit treat smuggled away from the grown-up's party. 

Seated beside the bed in a comically tiny chair is Harold, age 25. His glasses are still round, but he gets his hair professionally cut now, so it no longer falls in his face. A worn copy of _The Little Prince_ is lying open on his knees.

Over Harold's shoulder, we see Nathan appear in the doorway. He stops, and watches fondly as the man he built a fortune with reads to his sleeping son. 

Maybe Harold hasn't noticed that Will is out of it. Maybe he just likes the book.]

Nathan: (when Harold pauses to turn the page) You've got to stop letting him con you into this stuff. It's only gonna get worse as he gets older.

Harold: He could hear the music from his room. He felt left out. I told him he wasn't missing much.

Nathan: Olivia will be devastated that her party failed to entertain the two of you.

Harold: Would you believe me if I said I was having fun?

[Shaw and Harold are peeking at the scene from their hiding place in a bathroom across the hall.]

Shaw: Cute kid.

Harold: That he was. 

[They watch as Nathan sits down on the edge of Will's bed and leans forward to brush his hair back.]

Harold: Before IFT started being profitable, I was usually the only babysitter they could afford. I spent a great deal of time with Will when he was a baby, a toddler. (smiles ruefully) I didn't think I would miss it, and yet.

Shaw: You guys keep in touch?

Harold I saw him earlier today. He invited me to Christmas dinner.

Shaw: You tell him you'd come?

[Harold doesn't reply.]

Shaw: Yeah.

[In the background, the sounds of the party grow louder, then fade out. There's a perceptible shift in the atmosphere. Nathan, Will, and young Harold seem to freeze, like figures in a wax tableau.]

Harold: Given how our visit to my father's house ended, I assume there's more to come.

Shaw: (shrugs) I'm just the chauffeur. 

[Behind them, Leon looks at Gonzo.]

Leon: The big blonde guy is Nathan? As in "Nathan was dead to begin with"?

Gonzo: Just wait, you'll see.

Leon: Okay but, what if I don't want to wait around for a dead guy to show up?

Gonzo: (starts to insist they stick to the plan, then changes his mind) Yeah, they don't need us for this.

[Harold starts walking down a hallway, as though he knows where he's going. Reluctantly, Shaw trails behind him. He opens a door and steps inside.

CUT TO: The server room at IFT where the Machine was built. The Harold of one year earlier is seated at his station, engrossed in his work. The only light comes from the monitor.

[ ](https://ibb.co/vYjsyRr)

Shaw waits. After a moment, Harold speaks without turning around.]

Harold: We fought. Last year, just before the holidays. I stopped going to Olivia's Christmas parties once Will got old enough to make other plans, so as it turned out, not being on speaking terms with my best friend didn't even disrupt my schedule. 

Shaw: You're bitter. (nods solemnly) I get that.

Harold: (shaking his head slowly; it's unclear whether he even heard her) I was so angry with him. Second-guessing my decisions. Meddling behind my back. He knew he could never hide anything from me. What did he expect would happen? Why couldn't he just listen?

Shaw: And then he died. Bet that really pissed you off. Couldn't even tell him 'I told you so'.

[Harold sighs, defeated, and his shoulders slump. All the fight seems to go out of him.]

Harold: I think we're done here.

[Over his shoulder, we see the other Harold typing, eyes flicking from keyboard to monitor and back again. It's a bleak, chilly picture of a lonely man who doesn't realize how lonely he is.]

[CUT TO: The loft, interior. Through the windows we see the lights and hear the sounds of a helicopter taking off from the roof.

Under the strobing lights, Harold lets himself in the front door. He takes his hat off and sits down on the sofa. After a moment, he looks at the blank TV screen where Nathan appeared to him just one hour ago, according to the clocks.]

Harold: (quietly) Are you there?

[A suspenseful moment. But nothing happens..]

Harold: I'm sorry, Nathan. I think you may have been right. Please, you don't have to continue with this, I understand what you're trying to tell me. I---

[A phone, lying on the table in front of him, chimes with an incoming text message.

Cautious despite having just implored Nathan's ghost to come back and finish their earlier conversation, Harold picks up the phone.

The text reads: Get some rest while you can.

Harold puts the phone down.]

[ ](https://ibb.co/TwGC2wy)


	3. STAVE THREE: The Second of the Three Simulations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to st_aurafina for the manip in this chapter.

**STAVE THREE:  
The Second of the Three Simulations**

[Scene: Loft interior. Harold is home again, sitting on the living room couch, alone in the dark.]

Gonzo: [voiceover] Harold knew that the second of the simulations was soon to begin. But now, as the hour approached midnight…

Harold: (checking the time on his phone) Nothing. 

[On cue, there is faint noise and movement from another room. Harold sits up from his dejected slump on the living room couch.

The silence of the flat is slowly being washed away by the sound of Christmas music. The glow of colored lights spills into the hallway. Cautiously, Harold reaches for his cane and goes to investigate.

Scene: Nathan's old office, now transformed into a tasteful but unironic shrine to Christmas. Putting finishing touches on a gorgeous tree, and sipping on a brandy eggnog while swaying to the music, is Joss Carter. She's beautiful, in a great mood, and off duty. Her Christmas dress is both seasonal and classy. This is not her first eggnog of the evening.]

Carter: Hey, why you lurkin' in your own doorway? Come in, have a drink! (pours him a drink) Get some Christmas spirit in you. (broad silly wink)

Harold: (charmed despite himself) And you are…?

Carter: What I _am_ is happy to be here. (She looks him up and down in his suit paints and bathrobe.) You're missing something.

Harold: Well, I didn't exactly have time to…

[His excuses die away as Carter puts something on his head. Harold blinks a few times, then turns to look at himself in the mirror. He is now wearing a reindeer antler headband.]

Carter: Now we're talking. Come on, drink your drink!

[Harold sips obligingly. Carter pours more rum into his eggnog. Harold tries to protest.]

Carter: (a little less cheerful and more like her on-duty self) Trust me, fella, where we're going? You want to drink a little more than that. 

Harold: (dry) Are you going to show me more emotional scenes from my past?

Carter: Oh, you'll find out. In the mean time, you want to get that? 

[Harold's phone is beeping. He looks at it. There's a number. He's been getting them occasionally, ever since he reinstalled the contingency program after Nathan's death. But it's not as if he could do anything about it even if he wanted to.

He puts the phone back down under Carter's scrutinizing eye.]

Harold: Wrong number.

[Carter eyes him like she knows better.]

Carter: C'mon. Let's go take a walk.

*

[CUT TO: Carter and Harold on the street. Carter is dressed for work. Harold managed to lose the antlers but is still in his bathrobe. Once again, we are assailed by New York Christmas decorations in full panoply.]

Gonzo: (voiceover) For weeks now, Harold had made his way around the city, barely seeing the decorations and lights. If ever he had noticed them for a moment, he made certain to blot them out of his perception immediately. But after the events of the first simulation, it was just possible that Harold was seeing the world around him with new eyes.

[A streetcorner choir erupts in a rendition of "Joy To the World". All the choristers are chickens. Gonzo is conducting.]

Carter: Love it when you can just look around and tell that people are in a good mood.

Harold: (impatient) If we're about to embark on another trip into my past, I'm afraid we've really already covered the highlights. I don't have an inexhaustible supply of deceased family members.

Carter: Not my beat. I'm all about the here and now.

Harold: The here and now…

Carter: Take a good look at where we're standing.

[Harold looks up for the first time, and the massive Christmas tree in Rockefeller Center looms before him. Automatically, he walks forward to look down at the ice skating rink below, where a choreographed ice dancing performance is taking place. The ice dancers hold feathery fronds, and together they weave an intricate pattern of shifting colors that gradually resolves into a living mosaic of the Birth of Venus.

Harold grips the railing and gasps softly as the dancers at the center of the formation peel away to reveal: Miss Piggy on the half shell, radiant and majestic, rising like a goddess from the middle of the tableau. 

In deference to the Christmas season, there is a single sprig of holly in her hair.]

Harold: (stunned) I can't believe it's her.

Carter: Can't go anywhere in this town without seeing that face these days.

Harold: She was just a struggling artist when we met. Look how far she's come.

[Carter produces a copy of the latest edition of Vogue. Miss Piggy is on the cover, wearing a wedding dress.]

Carter: (opening magazine) It says here that she "underwent a period of artistic renewal after losing the love of her life in a rubber chicken factory explosion".

Harold: I couldn't bear for her to know the truth, she's such a delicate soul.

Carter: (still reading) Well, she didn't mourn for too long. (turns the magazine over so Harold can see a photograph of Miss Piggy with Kermit) Looks like she met your personal assistant.

[Harold stares for a long moment, looking very blank. If he were anyone else, he would be seething with jealousy.]

Harold: I wish them all the happiness in the world. (tightly) Are we finished here?

Carter: You ought to think twice about rushing me. You might not like what comes after.

[She hails a cab. Before he follows her, Harold looks wistfully over his shoulder for one last glimpse of the pig he loved and lost.]

Harold: (to himself) It's for the best. She was out of your league.

[He gets in the car and it drives away.

Meanwhile, DOWN ON THE ICE, the show is over. As Miss Piggy emerges to greet her adoring fans, one man pushes his way through the crowd and falls to his knees in front of Miss Piggy. 

It's Leon. He makes an imploring gesture and offers Miss Piggy a single rose.

Miss Piggy makes a small "hmph" sounds and walks around him. Leon slumps, dejected, surrounded by confetti, glitter, and crushed flowers. 

Nearby, someone clears their throat loudly. It's Gonzo.]

Gonzo: (to Leon) Need a hand?

Leon: Why do I always strike out with women?

[Gonzo looks directly at the camera.]

*

Gonzo: [voiceover] Perhaps it was Detective Carter's generous nature, and her sympathy for all poor creatures, that led them next to a place where the atmosphere of holiday cheer was almost defeated by the heaviness of grief.

[In the backseat of the taxi, Harold's phone is beeping. He has a text. Again.]

Carter: You want to get that?

Harold: It's fine.

Carter: You sure?

Harold: Very.

[The cab pulls up outside an ordinary high rise apartment building. Carter gives Harold a hand.]

Harold: Not to sound like a snob— 

[Carter coughs something into her scarf that sounds like "too late".]

Harold: —but I'm fairly certain that I'm not acquainted with anyone who lives in this building.

Carter: Did I say that you were? 

[Carter hits the button to call the elevator.]

Harold: Well, no. But there has been a certain theme or unifying premise to all of the scenes I've visited so far.

Carter: It's not always about you, Harold.

[The elevator dings. Carter and Harold get in. It dings again, and Carter and Harold exit on the 7th floor.]

Carter: Right now, it's about this child.

[A door opens down the hall. We pan to see…

Bean Bunny, leaving his own apartment and trudging dejectedly toward the home of one of his neighbors. The door opens as soon as he knocks, and Bean enters. He's expected.

Harold darts a look at Carter, who arches an eyebrow in response. Creeping up to the open door, he observes the scene inside:

An elderly man carries a pot of tea and a plate of cookies over to the table, then sits down next to Bean and makes sure he takes a few and gets plenty of milk and sugar in his tea, just the way he likes it. Bean is a familiar visitor in this house.]

Bean: Thanks, Mr. G.

Mr. G: Thank you for coming over, Bean.

Bean: Mom said it was ok if I was sad when I visited you, because you were sad too and it was better to be sad together. But, I don't have to say Merry Christmas if I don't feel merry.

Mr. G: Your mom is a smart lady. 

Bean: And she said Mrs. G would want her friends to make sure you were okay. Are you okay, Mr. G?

[Mr. G blinks a few times and nods slowly, weighing his words.]

Mr. G: Being okay takes time, Bean. But I'm glad you're here. I found something that I think Cora would have liked for you to have. 

[He digs in the pocket of his cardigan and produces a locket with a spring catch. Adjusting his glasses on his nose, he opens the locket and turns it so Bean can see the picture of a small child wearing an old fashioned sailor suit inside.]

Mr. G: The necklace belonged to Cora's mother, many years ago. That is Cora, when she was a little girl just about your age.

Bean: (fascinated) Woooow. Did she live on a boat?

[Harold turns to look at Carter over his shoulder, as Bean and Mr. G continue to talk softly in the background.]

Harold: Seems like a nice kid.

Carter: He's a sweetie.

Harold: Are you about to tell me that he's...I don't know, the offspring of some long lost relative, or…

Carter: Do I have to repeat myself? This ain't about you. (She nods at the boy and the old man.) Bean used to come and stay with Mrs. McGillicuddy after school. She helped him with his reading, he helped her out around the apartment. See, Bean and his mom are all on their own. Mrs. G. made him feel safe when his mom had to work those long hours.

Harold: (softening slightly) She sounds like an admirable woman.

Carter: Bean has trouble with his schoolwork. Mrs. McGillicuddy was about to sponsor him to go to a better school, where they have programs for kids like him. But she didn't mention it to anyone before she died, not even her husband. Didn't want to hurt his mom's pride. 

Harold: Oh, but I…

Carter: See, Mrs. McGillicuddy? (Producing a newspaper, she slaps it against Harold's chest.) Supposedly, she got hit by a drunk driver that ran up onto the sidewalk. Only what the police don't know is that the driver got bailed out by Mrs. McGillicuddy's landlord. Her apartment's rent controlled. 

Harold: (shocked and alarmed) Is Mr. McGillicuddy safe?

Carter: Can't live alone with his arthritis. He's moving to Jersey to live with his daughter. 

Harold: I see. But I never received a number for Cora McGillicuddy, so if you think you've proved something…

[His phone beeps with a new text.]

Carter: Would it make any difference if you had received it? 

Harold: (angry) Of course it— 

[Catching himself, he looks at the phone again. He thinks rapidly and comes to a conclusion.]

Harold: This is her number now, isn't it?

[Carter gives him a look then starts down the hall. Harold catches up to her at the elevator.]

Harold: But that means there's still time. For her, for...for Bean. This situation can be altered, can it not?

Carter: You're talking about stuff that hasn't happened yet, and that ain't my field. Like I told you. My speciality is the here and now. But what do you care, anyway? People die, they've been doing it for a long, long time.

[Harold turns on her, stricken, as she steps into the elevator.]

Carter: I can see you're about to start arguing with me, but you should save your breath. My time here is just about up.

Harold: What do you mean?

Carter: You took a look at your past with Shaw.

Harold: So that was her name.

Carter: And I showed you what's going on in your present. You're good at patterns—you tell me what happens next.

Harold: Someone else is coming to guide me through the next simulation...which will take place in the future.

[The elevator doors open. Harold follows Carter outside.

It's dark now. Cold, damp, a miserable night to be out in. The sidewalk is deserted, and the streetlamps are haloed in mist. The only sign of life is a taxi, idling by the curb with its lights on. A tall figure is leaning against it; a person in a long dark coat and a dark cap, face obscured as they look down at the phone in their hand.]

Carter: This is my stop.

Harold: I see. Will you be all right getting—oh, what am I saying, you're probably going to teleport yourself home, or flap your arms and fly. If this is a simulation then anything is possible.

[Carter laughs, and for a second she's the bright, bubbly person he drank eggnog with an hour ago.]

Carter: I'll be just fine. You worry about you.

Harold: What should I do? Go back home?

Carter: Not necessary. (She nods at the cab, where the dark figure is still waiting.) Your ride is already here. You go with her.

[Down the sidewalk, the waiting figure looks up and smiles.]

**END OF STAVE THREE**


	4. STAVE FOUR: The Last of the Three Simulations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to st_aurafina for both of the manips in this chapter.

**STAVE FOUR:  
The Last of the Three Simulations**

[Scene: A deserted sidewalk in a residential part of Brooklyn at night. Harold, still wearing a bathrobe over his trousers, is the only person around, except for the tall, dark figure leaning against the side of a cab.

Mesmerized, he does not approach immediately.]

Harold: (calling out) Am I in the presence of the simulation of Christmas yet to come?

[Root doesn't react, except to tilt her head.]

Harold: I don't wish to be rude, but I must confess...I fear you more than any specter I have yet met.

[ ](https://ibb.co/Dzmvj0C)

[Gonzo and Leon peek out the door of the apartment building]

Leon: The hot chick is freaking me out.

Gonzo: When you're right, you're right. You're on your own, folks. We'll meet you when this chapter's done.

[Gonzo and Leon scurry back inside for the duration. 

Meanwhile, Harold drifts closer to Root, as if tugged along by an invisible string.]

Harold: I'm—prepared to concede that I have learned a sorely needed lesson this evening. And that, unlikely as it seems, there may even be more to learn. (He stops about three feet away from Root, like he doesn't dare come any closer.) All of which is to say, you're very unsettling, but I'm trying to keep an open mind.

[He waits to see what reply she will make to this gracious speech. When she just keeps standing there, smiling slightly, he becomes more agitated.]

Harold: Will you not speak to me?

[Root opens the door of the taxi and gestures for Harold to get in. Reluctantly, he climbs into the back seat. Root is driving.

CUT TO the cab pulling to a stop near the Brooklyn Bridge. The doors open. Harold looks around, then back at Root, who has already resumed her posture of leaning against the car while looking at her phone.]

Harold: What are we doing here?

[Root arches an eyebrow and shrugs.]

Harold: But what am I supposed to…

[Across the street, a figure shuffles down the sidewalk: a tall, bearded man with long, shaggy hair, wearing layers of dirty, oversized clothing. His gait is unsteady, as though he's been drinking. He keeps his head down.

Harold keeps searching for whatever he's been brought here to do. But the man is the only other living thing here.]

Harold: What, then? Do I speak to him? 

[He looks across the street. He opens his mouth, starts to raise his hand. 

The man stops at the midpoint of the bridge. Placing his hands on the railing, he looks down. Harold begins to get a very uneasy feeling.]

Harold: Excuse me! 

[Alarmed, he forgets to be awkward. He crosses the street as quickly as he can.] 

Harold: I beg your pardon…

[Closer now, Harold can see the man's face more clearly through the grime and the beard. Recognition feels like a hard jab to the ribs. He stops short.]

Harold: ...John?

[Even the whisper seems loud in the empty night. But John doesn't react.

Doubting himself, Harold gets a little closer, but the better he sees the more certain he is. This is John Reese, whose work as a covert operative for the CIA Harold has been aware of for a few months now. 

Since the ferry bombing, Harold has looked at Nathan's research on the irrelevant numbers half a dozen times. There's an entire file dedicated to Jessica Arndt, whose number has come up once a year since her marriage in 2008. It takes some imagination to see the sleek government assassin under the miasma of neglect and despair now clinging to him, but Harold has studied Reese's movements on satellite and surveillance camera footage from all over the world. He couldn't explain why; there's just something fascinating about the way Reese obliterates whatever stands between him and his target. 

Harold comes closer, aware that he might be taking his life into his own hands.]

Harold: (quietly) It is John, isn't it? John Reese.

[ ](https://ibb.co/Y3706h5)

[Seconds pass and Reese doesn't respond at all. Finally, Harold understands: Reese can't hear him, any more than his father or Will or Nathan had been able to hear him. Whatever is about to happen will happen, and Harold will be unable to intervene.

Reese grips the railing tight and climbs up, balancing. Only his drunken hold on the support column keeps him from tumbling over the edge, into thin air and then the freezing water below. 

Panicked, Harold lurches forward.]

Harold: No please, you musn't—!

[Thirty seconds or more go by.

Reese climbs back down. 

As soon as his feet touch the sidewalk, his knees buckle. Unable to help himself, Harold tries to touch Reese's shoulder. His hand goes right through.

Reese is hardly a friend, but watching him suffer and being helpless to intervene is still torture.

Suddenly all he can see in his mind's eye is Nathan's face that day in the library. The penny drops. Harold feels sick.]

Harold: (to Root) Help him.

[Root tilts her head.]

[ ](https://ibb.co/bQjtdqX)

Harold: You must be able to do _something_.

[Root is quiet for a long moment. When she speaks, she sounds odd—like there's a lag.]

Root: I did everything I could.

Harold: I don't understand.

Root: I'm not allowed to intervene directly.

Harold: Why not?

Root: Because you built me to save everyone, not someone.

[Harold's jaw drops. The streetlights behind him dim, hiding John and the bridge in shadow. 

Root takes a step forward. It's just the two of them—no cars, no city sounds. Even the lapping of the water falls silent. Root's gaze is fixed on Harold. Her face seems to glow with a strange light.]

Harold: (tremulously) You…?

Root: But you also built me to care about everyone. Some people might call that cruel.

Harold: I didn't mean—

Root: When you tried to murder Alicia Corwin, you wouldn't listen to me. Was it because you knew I could see what would happen? You'd get away with it, of course. You always do.

Harold: I was grieving, I wasn't thinking straight.

Root: You're still grieving. And the people who murdered Nathan are still out there. Getting up in the morning, going to work. They will kill more people. If you decide to look for them, you'll find them. And you'll stop them. You'll make sure that the right people replace them in their jobs. But you can never really be sure about anyone, so you'll have to watch them. Keep them honest. Maybe even threaten them, just to be sure. In ten years you'll be the most powerful person on the planet and no one will even know you exist, and you'll tell yourself it was the only way.

[Harold wants to say that it's all absurd—but the truth is that he recognizes himself in the picture she's painted. 

Staggering to a bus bench he folds in half, face between his hands. He speaks without looking up.]

Harold: Just tell me one thing. What probability have you calculated for this outcome? Can it be averted?

Root: (frowns slightly) That depends on what you do next.

Harold: What I— _oh_

[In less time than it takes to process an eyeblink Harold's surroundings have changed. Instead of standing on a bridge a few feet from John Reese, he is back in the loft, which is brightening with the blue light of a false dawn. 

He is alone. Just as he registers this, a face appears on the television screen: Root.

[ ](https://ibb.co/G0mB2f9)

Root: One more thing before I go. When Nathan died, you'd been fighting and hadn't talked to each other for awhile. You're not sure if he ever knew how much you loved him. He would want me to tell you that he did, and that you meant just as much to him.

Harold: (whispering) How could you _possibly_ know a thing like that.

Root: Nathan helped create me. I watched him more closely than anyone besides you. I know him. 

[The face on the TV becomes Nathan's, exactly as it looked when he started haunting Harold earlier in the evening.]

Nathan: Hell, I'm 99.6% accurate. I'm pretty sure I was only about 89% accurate in life.

[A wink, and then the screen goes dark.

Harold sits, staring into the sudden, shocking silence of an empty loft.]

[ ](https://ibb.co/vPSDMn7)


	5. STAVE FIVE: The End of It

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual, tremendous thanks to st_aurafina for the manip! And thanks to everyone for reading along.

**STAVE FIVE:  
The End of It**

[LOFT INTERIOR: Through the windows we see the sun beginning to rise.

Harold, sunk in his reverie, doesn't notice it right away. But then he lifts his head and blinks, as if startled by the arrival of the new day.

When his phone beeps. Harold lunges for it. The Machine has sent him a number. His mouth twists, a determined little grimace.

CUT TO three hours later. Harold, sitting at his laptop, pushes away from the table. He lets out a long sigh with a lot of emotions packed in it: relief, dread, acceptance.

Suddenly, two familiar faces appear through the glass balcony doors. CUT TO balcony exterior, where Gonzo and Leon are waiting.]

Gonzo: That Christmas morning, galvanized by the lessons imparted to him during the three simulations, Harold saved his very first number. After many long weeks of fretfulness and anxiety, he had finally embraced Nathan's mission as his own. 

Leon: (waves) We're back, by the way.

Gonzo: We promised we would be! 

What made Harold happiest of all was the fact that he had time—time to change his life, to do good to those he loved, and to save others. He had witnessed much suffering that night. Even now not all of it could be averted, but much of it could; and where he could not prevent suffering, he could at least comfort it. There was much to do in the day ahead. 

But first, he had an important call to make.

[Harold picks up his phone. Visibly steeling himself, he places a call.]

Harold: Olivia, hello. Yes, it's Harold. No, I can see why you might have thought that, but I didn't actually drop off the face of the earth. I'm calling because Will came by Universal the other day…no, I don't want to come to the party! Oh. (flat) Ha ha, very funny. Yes, I'd be delighted to come to dinner. Yes, that works just fine. 

Oh, one last thing: do you happen to know what a little boy about 10 years old might like for Christmas? (listens) No I didn't get married! Oh. Lol, as the young people say. Yes. See you then.

[His most difficult chore now accomplished, Harold stands up. He looks around for his keys and his phone, patting his pockets. He looks down. He's still wearing his pajama shirt and his bathrobe.

The absurdity of his present situation and indeed, the entirety of the last twelve hours, hits him all at once. We leave Harold just as he begins dissolving into a fit of giggles.

SCENE: On the other side of the city, an overworked single bunny is pulling together a simple Christmas dinner for herself and her young son. Suddenly, a doorbell rings.]

Bean: (calling) Don't worry, Mom, I'll get it!

[Bean opens the door and looks up. And up, and up.]

[](https://ibb.co/ys9300N)

Delivery guy: I have packages here for the Bunny family?

Bean: Oh, that's us.

Delivery guy: Sign here. And here. Here too. And here.

Bean: That's a lot of signing. 

Delivery guy: There's a lot of packages!

[On cue, three more delivery persons come marching in. Their arms are laden with boxes and bags and catering trays. ]

Mrs. Bunny: Bean? What's going on out there?

[The last arrival is a roast turkey larger than Bean. Mrs. Bunny trades looks of wonder with her son. Where did it all come from?]

Mr. McGillicuddy: (appearing at the door) Knock, knock neighbors! (He takes in the spectacle before him.) Where'd all this come from?

Delivery guy: New landlord.

Mrs. Bunny: New landlord? What happened to Mr. M'Choakumchild?

[Miss Piggy appears at the door.]

[ ](https://ibb.co/S5hB9c1)

Miss Piggy: A-hem-hem-hem. Please excuse me.

Mr. McGillicuddy: (appreciatively) Wow, Miss Piggy!

Miss Piggy: I hope you will forgive the intrusion. As your new landlady, it is my duty to inform you that Mr. M'Choakumchild has sold all of his real estate in Manhattan to _moi_. (nods at their shocked noises) Yes, he left the city very suddenly to go on vacation. In Antarctica. 

Mrs. Bunny: Unbelievable!

Miss Piggy: (to the reader) That's what the cops said.

Bean: But what about the food, Miss Piggy? And the toys?

Miss Piggy: They are what grown ups call a _tax write-off_ , my dear. Enjoy!

[As Miss Piggy retreats, followed by a procession of delivery people, Bean follows her to the door. He sees Harold, standing discreetly out of the way near the elevators. Harold gives him a small smile.]

Bean: (calling) Merry Christmas!

[Harold waves back.

When Miss Piggy reaches his end of the corridor, Harold presses the call button. They stand side by side, waiting for the elevator. Finally, Harold darts a sideways glance at her.]

Harold: (fondly) You're still a brilliant actress, and will no doubt be an equally brilliant businesswoman.

Miss Piggy: (pursing her lips) I'm very glad you were not in the rubber chicken factory when it exploded. 

[The elevator arrives. Miss Piggy gets in. When Harold tries to follow her, she sniffs haughtily, stopping him in his tracks.]

Miss Piggy: _You_ can take the stairs, mister.

[The elevator doors close. Harold sighs wistfully.]

[ ](https://ibb.co/MSjhbDP)

Gonzo: (voiceover) There was just one errand left for Harold to perform, but it was the riskiest of all.

[SCENE: John Reese on a sidewalk in Manhattan. He is alert, sleek, polished—still a lethal government operative, a far cry from the broken man we last saw on the bridge.

Suddenly, his phone rings. Reese answers it. A look of disbelief appears on his face.

Cut to: Harold, sitting in a car that is idling some distance away. He hangs up, watching Reese closely. When Reese gets into a cab, Harold leans forward to speak to his driver-slash-bodyguard.]

Harold: All right, he's going. Stick to the plan.

Sweetums: (grumbles) Okay, the plan.

Harold: (turns to the person sitting next to him in the back seat) Are you ready?

[We see a woman clutching her purse, looking excited and nervous at the same time.]

Jessica: He's right there, are you sure I can't just talk to him?

Harold: It wouldn't be safe, I'm afraid. We're not the only ones watching him. (peering at her anxiously) I'm sorry, I can only guess how strange this must all seem. 

Jessica: I've known for a long time that I would have to leave my husband one day, but I never wanted to make John worry about me.

Harold: I understand that. But I promise—by confiding in him today, you will in fact be protecting not only yourself, but him as well.

[ ](https://ibb.co/vstxTHV)

[Scene: Queensbridge Park. There is open space, and a single bench near the water. Harold's car is parked, and he is standing outside, waiting. Sweetums stands nearby, also waiting, and grumbling slightly about being bored.

In the distance, Reese's cab pulls up. When he emerges, heading directly for Harold with a grim look in his eye, Harold turns and helps Jessica out of the car.

Reese and Jessica see each other, and freeze. Then Reese runs towards her, and Jessica runs to meet him. They collide with each other halfway, and Jessica flings her arms around him.]

Harold: (to Sweetums) We're done here.

Sweetums: Aww, but I want to watch the happy ending.

Harold: Mr. Sweetums, if you please. I have a dinner engagement.

[They get back into the car and drive off. Jessica hardly notices, but Reese watches the car leaving for a long time.]

Gonzo: (voiceover) And so on Christmas day, Harold, a man who for many years had hidden himself away from the world, began truly to live in it once more. Though he had been obliged to say a sorrowful farewell to the friends of his past, he saw now that there were friends to be made in his future. He would lurk in the shadows no more, but live his life, and make sweeter the lives of all those whom he met.

Leon: (voiceover) I don't know if that's accurate.

[Scene: Gonzo and Leon sitting in the park, passing a tub of popcorn and cranberries. They are snacking, and also sewing a Christmas tree garland. In the background: kissing noises.]

Gonzo: What do you mean?

Leon: Dude practically lives in an abandoned library, so...you know. He's still kind of lurking. He's just lurking with friends.

Gonzo: I suppose you have a point. Anything you want to say to the readers before the story's over?

Leon: God bless us, every one!

Gonzo: (nods) Classic.


End file.
